Owl's Omen
by Canima
Summary: Owl's Omen is a notorious Dark Guild in Northern Fiore. The members are ruthless, cruel, and fiercely loyal to their Master. They are rarely challenged by any Light Guilds or the council, because any effort to stop them to date has been fruitless. But everything ends, and Owl's Omen is no exception. What happens when the Guild starts to fall from the inside? (SYOC - open)
1. Chapter 1

_The Guild Hall of Owl's Omen was extravagent, if nothing else - for a dark Guild, anyway. The Guild itself was three stories high, with the first story being for daily interactions between the Guild's members - the bar, the dining hall, and the library were all located there. On the second floor were the dorms, where most of the Guild's members stayed, for various reasons. The third floor was specifically for the Master's use - not many people got to go up there. But the Master was a man of many secrets, so not many questioned him._

 _The decor around the Guild was rather simplistic. Or, at least, it appeared to be. The main colors consisted of purples, blacks, whites, and grays. The main Hall had shiny, white-tiled floors, gray walls, and a purple-and-white granite countertop with black tabletops and chairs. The ceiling was black, with thousands of tiny, white lights all over it to emulate the night sky. The same went for the curtains - they were dark purple in color, blocked out any and all light from the outside, and decorated with hundreds of starlike white lights. The lighting in the room was usually kept rather dim, just in case someone wanted to flash the strobe lights and have a little fun - which happened much more often than someone would think from a Dark Guild._

 _Upstairs, the floors were carpeted, and most of the dorms looked almost exactly the same. The walls were light gray in color, the carpet was intricately-designed floral patterns, colored purple, gray, white and black, and the bedspreads were purple-and-black by default. There was a small closet, a dresser, and a bed in each room, as all of the rooms were for one person and one person only. The girls shared a restroom at one end of the hall while the boys shared one at the other end._

 _The outside of the building was largely purple, and very eye-catching. It was located near the center of Lavender City - a populous town in the mountains of northern Fiore. Due to its difficult location and powerful members, the Guild was not often challenged by the government, or any light Guilds, in spite of their deviant behavior and questionable motives. For that reason, the Guild's members were usually allowed to go on their merry way and do what they wished... as long as their Master was okay with it._

 _The Master of Owl's Omen was widely known as one of the strongest wizards in Fiore. His name was Zale McNamara, and he was thirty-seven years old. He wasn't particularly tall - in fact, he was just a bit taller than average, standing in at 5'9" or so. He had dark blue hair and pale silver eyes, and was still very attractive, especially for his age. But he wasn't known for his beauty. No, Zale was incredibly powerful, and was notorious for his quick temper and total disregard for human life. Though he was a dangerous killer in the past, most of his dirty work was carried out by his "wolves" nowadays._

 _"Wolves" was a term for the S-Class mages in Owl's Omen, though the most common - and more derogatory - term for them was "dogs." They were usually made S-Class by a combination of their physical and magical powers, and their loyalty to Master Zale. One could not become S-Class in Owl's Omen without killing for their Master, and one remained S-Class by following every order without question or hesitation. Hence the term "dogs."_

 _Owl's Omen was feared, revered, and powerful. They were truly a force to be reckoned with, with strong and loyal members who would kill for their Master. But such an evil Guild is bound for self-destruction, and even those who seem invincible will fall eventually. This is the story of Owl's Omen, and how they were taken down from the inside._

* * *

 _November 15th, X876  
Cecily Larue _

It was cold in Lavender City, per the norm - especially at this time of year. Mid-November was usually when the snowstorms really started coming down, but as it would happen, there were only flurries falling from the dull gray sky. The temperature, however, was likely in the early thirties, or high twenties. It was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, speeding Cecily's booted feet along at a brisk trot to get back to the Guild Hall. The twenty-year-old had just gotten done at the market, and was toting a few paper bags filled with various food and drinks. Master Zale often sent her off to the market when they were low on supplies - apparently, the honey-blonde young woman was more personable than about three-quarters of the other Guild members, and so people were less likely to be afraid of her when she approached - even with the Guild's insignia burned onto the side of her throat.

She heard all sorts of junk from Lavender City's residents about how she shouldn't be in Owl's Omen - she was too young; she was too friendly; she was too kind to be in such a place. They just didn't understand - how could they? - how much she owed to Master Zale. And he never asked _too_ much of her. Nothing she couldn't handle, anyway. He did much more for her than she did for him, such as providing food, shelter, and protection whenever she needed it. If she had to perform a few less-than-legal tasks for him in return, so be it. She didn't mind.

What she did mind, however, was the fact that her ponytail was sliding out, letting her light golden hair tickle the sides of her face and neck. She sighed. Her hair was at that awkward length, where it went just a bit past her collarbone, with about a hundred layers clipped throughout it. Its already-wavy nature combined with the fact that it was at just the wrong length made it nearly unbearable. She reminded herself to cut it later - along with those sideswept bangs that nearly concealed her right eye nowadays. She'd cut it as soon as she got a break later that day.

Cecily had a hum in her throat and a skip in her step by the time she reached the Guild Hall, and balanced the paper bags precariously on one thin hip as she opened the door with the hand she'd freed. Unfortunately, that good mood went right out the window when she stepped inside.

The tension was palpable, and the strobe lights weren't even on, signaling that there was likely something off. There were about ten Guild members in the Hall at the moment, but among them was Master Zale. In fact, it seemed that he was part of the tension, as one of the lower-ranked mages was glaring him down from only a few feet away. A quick look around told Cecily that she was the only S-Class there, so that was probably going to be a problem as well. She was one of the younger "Wolves," so it was quite a bit more difficult for her to perform the kind of crowd control that Master Zale would want. She usually had at least one other S-Class to help her out. It wasn't that she wasn't more than willing to help the Master with whatever he needed - it just wasn't always easy.

After calmly walking over to put the groceries behind the bar, Cecily trotted over to her Master's side. Her emerald green eyes remained transfixed on the still-glaring lower-ranked mage - who she now recognized as twenty-nine-year-old Marx Range, a Requip mage that had only been with the Guild for a year or so. He had dusty brown hair and gray eyes, and was a little on the chubbier side. Not a threat.

"Cecily, you know I hate to ask these kinds of things of you," Master Zale said in a rueful voice, his pale silver eyes flicking over to the blonde young woman. "But it appears that our beloved Marx isn't happy with the way we run things around here."

Cecily felt her eyebrows knit together. "Does he want to leave?" she questioned, her eyes only leaving the Requip mage for a heartbeat in order to glance at her Master.

"It appears so, yes." The Master's tone was lilting, almost singsong, in a way. Most would say that it was much too light for the type of thing he was talking about, but such serious matters were mundane to a man like Zale.

"I understand." Cecily shrugged off her jacket and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair - there was no sense in getting it dirty, after all - and stepped over to sit beside Marx at his table. She smiled. "Hello, Mr. Range. How are you doing?" she asked, making it a point to keep her tone of voice light and cheerful.

Marx's gray eyes softened a little at the sight of her, but his expression was more sad than anything. Worry was written in every fine line on his face. "Considering why you're here to speak to me, I doubt I'm doing well. But thank you for asking."

Cecily's smile faltered a bit. "Why do you want to leave?" she questioned, folding her hands on the table before her. She was suddenly acutely aware of the knife concealed within her calf-high boot - it felt as though it was burning her skin. "Are you unhappy here?"

"Very," Marx responded, closing his eyes with a sigh. He suddenly slammed a fist down on the table and turned to face her fully, his eyes panicked and wild. "You have to be able to see what's going on, Cecily. Everyone has to be able to see that what's happening here isn't right!" he was speaking feverishly, his tongue tripping over itself in his haste to get his words out. "We're pawns. We're brainwashed, oppressed fools, and we're being led by a cruel, heartless man." His voice had risen by that point, and everyone in the Guild was watching.

"Mr. Marx-" Cecily started, but he interrupted her.

"Zale is evil! He'll kill you all if you give him the chance! Don't turn your back on him! Sleep with one eye open!" Marx had stood by that point, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth as he screamed to the surrounding Guild members. "We live by his rules! Get out now while you have the chance-!"

This time, it was Cecily who had cut him off. In one swift movement - a movement so fast that it could not be seen by the naked eye - she had whipped out her knife, stood up, and thrust it through Marx's back. It was buried to the hilt, and the tip was protruding out the front of the man's chest.

Just as the blood stain started to blossom through the back of Marx's shirt, Cecily ripped the knife out. Blood splattered across the table and across Cecily's face and hands, but she paid no mind. Marx dropped facedown on the ground, and red liquid began pooling around him. His fingers were still twitching a bit, but he was obviously dead.

No one in the Guild looked surprised in the slightest, and they each went back to whatever they'd been doing before - one was browsing the job request board, two were playing cards, and a few were talking in the corner with some liquor. One of the other lower-ranked mages hurried over to clean up the "mess" on the floor, and Cecily jumped a bit when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She relaxed some when she saw that it was only the Master, with his silver eyes warm and inviting.

"You did well, Cecily," he praised, placing a hand on her head. "I'd like to thank you for standing by me all these years. You must be tempted to follow these deviants every now and then, don't you? After they spout off about me being so bad and all that," he clarified, removing his hand from her hair and arching one eyebrow.

Cecily shook her head quickly, her eyes widening. "No, Master, I'm loyal to you. You should know that by now!" she corrected, appalled at the very suggestion that she might betray her beloved Master.

Master Zale looked at her for a few more moments - was he still skeptical? - before laughing out loud. He bent halfway over, clutching his stomach, and chuckled hard for a few moments. Then, he straightened back up with a bright, sunny smile in her direction. "Of course you are! I never said you weren't, dummy." He patted her head again, a grin still plastered on his face. "I appreciate all you do for me. You work hard."

"Th-thank you, Master..."

"You should go clean up," he suggested, pulling his hand away and giving her a halfhearted chuckle. "You have some... dirt on your face."

 _Dirt? Oh. He must mean the blood,_ she realized, and hesitated for half a heartbeat before giggling in return. "You're right. I'll be back soon," she informed him, and trotted up the stairs and into the bathroom.

* * *

Once there and prepped for a shower, Cecily took a look at herself in the mirror. Her pale, olive-tinted skin was marred in several areas by scars, both newer and older. The most, she'd found, were located on her stomach and back. She traced one hand over her bare stomach, frowning a little in disappointment. So much for that perfect figure and beautiful skin that those women in the magazines had. Not that she had ever really wanted that in the first place - but didn't every girl dream of being a model at least once or twice in their lives?

Her eyes travelled up her body, and she jumped a bit when she made eye contact with herself in the mirror. There was blood all over the right side of her face, already halfway dry. She hadn't realized she'd gotten so dirty earlier.

She raised one hand in order to brush the blood off of her cheek, and realized her fingers were trembling. _Why does this always happen?_ she muttered inwardly, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest as she fought to still her hands. She shouldn't be shaky or feel anything less than accomplished - she'd done her job, defended her Master, and protected the structure of her Guild.

 _Then why do you feel so sick inside?_

The shaking was more intense now, and Cecily swallowed hard to try to clear the lump in her throat. Her eyes were burning and the world was starting to blur - was she _crying_? Her legs started to tremble, and she sank to the floor on her knees, her forehead coming to rest on the mirror as she attempted to steady her breathing.

"What's going on?" she whispered, feeling the tears leak from her eyes and roll down to drip off the end of her nose. They fell onto the floor between her bloodstained hands, and she bit back a sob. "Why do I feel so..." She broke off in a wretched hiccup, and her eyes widened as she brought her hands up to her head, clenching them in her hair.

 _Stop._

The word was forceful in her head, firm and sharp. She wasn't even sure it was her voice, but she didn't care. It gave her the resolve she needed in order to wipe the tears from her face and sniff back the sobs that had begun ripping themselves from her chest.

"Y-You're being silly, Cecy," she whispered to herself, her voice wavering ever so slightly as she got to her feet and turned to get into the shower. She needed to get the blood off of her before she went downstairs, and if she took too long, everyone would think that there was something wrong with her. She was supposed to be social and happy, not brooding and moody.

As soon as the hot water hit her skin, she felt immeasurably better. The heat was comforting, the bathroom was empty - apart from her, - and the rest of the Guild was downstairs. She could hear the music playing, and pictured everyone dancing under the flashing purple strobe lights. She always liked it when everyone would relax and goof off together, and being up in the showering room alone meant that she was likely missing it.

"Better hurry," she murmured, ignoring the red-tinged liquid washing down her face and body as she scrubbed Marx's blood from her skin. "Don't wanna miss it."

 _Everything's fine,_ Cecily chanted in her head, over and over and over and over again. _Everything is going to be fine._

* * *

 ** _Dark Guilds are cool. Enough said._**

 ** _There will be more info on my profile, along with the rules and form. Please read everything carefully, do not skip any of the form's sections, and send the characters in through PM._**

 ** _Reviews make the world go round!_**

 ** _God Bless you all!_**

 ** _-Canima_**


	2. Chapter 2

_November 15th, X876_  
 _Riley Mendes_

It was _way too freaking cold_ outside. Riley had just gotten off the train, having returned from a particularly nasty job that was located all the way down in Crocus. For someone who didn't like to leave the Guild too often, that was quite the trip. Heck, it was quite the trip anyway. Halfway across the country.

He puffed out a sigh and ran a hand through his windswept midnight blue hair, shivering just a bit and pulling his yellow scarf closer to his face to cover up his nose and defend against the freezing cold air as he trotted toward the Guild Hall. Once there, he'd be able to sit down and warm himself up with something from the bar, and he'd be able to give the souvenir he had in his pocket to its rightful owner.

Riley reached the Hall in record time and swung open one of the heavy, metal doors before stepping in. He groaned - the strobe lights were on yet again. Fortunately for him, the lights weren't unbearably bright. Annoying, but not too bright. He could deal with them.

He didn't get much of a greeting as he walked in - one or two of the Guild members he could name said "hi," but that was it. That was expected. Owl's Omen wasn't a tight Guild - most of them just stayed there because the Guild offered them shelter between jobs. Making friends wasn't something many of them were too focused on.

The twenty-five-year-old made his way through the throng of dancing bodies and headed over to the bar and sat down, feeling a bit concerned. Usually, by that point, he'd have a five-foot-five ball of happy blonde girl in his arms. The fact that he didn't was disconcerting.

Luckily, he didn't get too much of a chance to dwell on it, for another of the Guild's members caught his attention. He hadn't realized it when he'd sat down, but the man who was sitting in the seat to his right was one of his "friends," and that term was used rather loosely in this context. Ephraim London was a twenty-four-year-old Shadow mage, and though he and Riley ended up as drinking buddies more often than not, they didn't particularly get along. Still, Ephraim was cool enough - when he wasn't trying specifically to get on Riley's nerves.

Ephraim had smiled when Riley took his seat, and ran a hand through his lime green hair. "That didn't take too long. Don't assassinations take more than a week, on average?" he questioned, arching one eyebrow and fixing Riley a smirk. "Or are you just that good?"

"It wasn't as difficult as they said it'd be," Riley informed him, offering a small smile in return as the barmaid - the gorgeous, twenty-six-year-old, five-foot-six, platinum blonde Harriet Willows, who Riley was way more than familiar with - brought over his favorite drink. She slid it in front of him with a dazzling smile and a wink. Riley returned the favor before he turned back to Ephraim. "It only took a few days."

Ephraim nodded, watching the exchange with a tiny chuckle. "Wow. Impressive. I shouldn't expect anything less from the one they call 'Storm Caller,' should I?" Riley figured the question was rhetorical, since Ephraim simply took a sip of whatever alcohol was on the bar in front of him and started to speak again, "That's not to say you weren't missed. Not by me of course. It's just that that blonde bimbo wouldn't shut up about being worried about you."

Usually a comment like that would have gotten him upset, but since it _was_ Ephraim, and Ephraim was a total jerk on a good day, Riley had come to expect it. He took a deep breath and reached into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes - Fiore Blue, as always - and frowned when he realized he was running low: two left. Taking one out, he lit the cigarette and put it in his mouth, puffing out a breath of smoke. "Speaking of, do you know where she is?" he questioned, tilting his head to the side and watching Ephraim down the rest of his drink.

"Haven't seen her since the incident with Marx earlier today. That was pretty entertaining - that idiot was spouting off about how Zale was bad, how he had us under his control, and crap like that. She had to kill him." Ephraim's purple eyes watched Harriet as she flounced up to give him a refill, and bounced away with a giggle. Her skirt was altogether too short, but Riley supposed that that was probably the point. Harriet loved attention.

"How'd she do?" Riley felt that familiar protective "older brother" feeling rise in his chest. Cecily had let it slip to him once that she always felt weird after she killed someone. She'd used words like "shaky," "jittery," and "sick" to describe what it was like, and that sounded like her conscience was getting to her. He'd gotten to know Cecily quite well over the past few years, and he knew that this sort of lifestyle didn't suit a person like her. She was way too soft to be expected to kill people without a conscience.

Ephraim shrugged a shoulder. "The way she always does. She got blood all over the place, though. I had to help clean it up, too," he complained, taking a few sips of his new glass of alcohol. His pale cheeks were flushing a bit with drunkenness. Riley had to wonder how long he'd been drinking before he returned to the Hall a few minutes ago.

A sudden weight on his back halted any response Riley had formulated for Ephraim, and familiar - albeit cold and damp - honey blonde hair fell over his shoulder. Riley couldn't prevent the smile that broke loose on his face as Cecily twisted around to hug him from the front, her head pressed tightly into his chest. He moved his hands over to wrap around her, and she pulled back to glare pointedly at him.

"You didn't even tell me what time you were leaving last week," she scolded, her ember eyes narrowed and her finger wagging in his face to emphasize the fact that he was in trouble. "I wanted to go, too!"

Riley laughed and ruffled her wet hair. She would want to cut it soon, he imagined - it was getting quite long. "I didn't want you to get up at four in the morning. You didn't sleep well that night anyway, and it wasn't a safe mission," he pointed out, and Cecily scoffed.

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't have wanted to go with you. I'm not an S-Class for no reason, you know!" she grumbled, and busied herself by running her fingers through Riley's hair to get the knots out. Riley sighed, detecting a tremor in her hands as they carded through his dark blue locks.

"I know," he conceded, bending his head down to accommodate her shorter reach. Cecily didn't speak after that - she just continued to untangle Riley's wispy hair and shiver every now and again. The silence was out-of-character if Riley had ever seen it, and he moved back a bit in order to get her to make eye contact with him. She did - her eyes were red and the eyelids were puffy. He couldn't have that. "I got you something," he said around his cigarette, smiling a bit to try and get her to brighten up.

Her eyes lit up a bit - that was more like it. "You did?" she asked, as though she hadn't expected a "surprise" - they were rather routine at that point. Riley rarely went anywhere without getting her something these days. "Can I have it?" she asked, reaching her hands into his coat pockets to fish for her present. Riley chuckled and shifted back a bit so she couldn't find it on her own.

"Hang on; I'll get it for you." Riley reached deep into the pocket on the left side of his black-and-yellow coat, tugging out a small box wrapped in shiny blue paper. He handed it to her, and she opened it with a tiny smile. He wondered idly if the smile was just for his sake, since her sagging shoulders practically spelled out that she wasn't happy, and Riley hated it.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed, pulling out a small, chain bracelet with a few charms on it - a flower, a heart, and a book. Her eyes were round as she slid it over her hand - her hands were little enough so that she didn't even have to unfasten it. It hung loosely on her thin wrist, though it wasn't in danger of falling off. "It's so pretty, Riley! Thank you," she said, her smile more genuine as she hugged him again.

Riley returned the hug and pulled back to study her. Cecily wasn't all that curvy to begin with, but he'd noticed as of late that she was even slimmer than usual. "You look like you could use a cheeseburger," he teased, and Cecily blushed vibrantly.

"I'm fine!" she protested, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. She never had liked having her weight mentioned - whether she was too pudgy, too thin, or somewhere in between - and she'd been all three of those things since Riley had in the two years after he joined the Guild. He should know. She went through periods where she would stress out and eat too much, and she'd go through periods where she'd stress out and forget to eat. From experience, Riley knew she preferred leaning more toward the "too skinny" side rather than the "too pudgy" side, though he couldn't imagine why. Riley liked curves. Not that he thought of Cecily in that way, of course. No, sir.

Riley flicked her nose gently, and she stuck her lower lip out in a manipulative pout. "You don't mention a lady's weight, Riley."

"You're right. How rude of me. Will you forgive me, my lady?" He laughed and smiled broadly, a few puffs of smoke exiting his mouth. Cecily didn't seem to mind - she rather enjoyed the scent of that particular brand of cigarettes. She couldn't smoke - thank goodness - though she had attempted several times. Each had ended in a coughing fit - she'd even thrown up once. She was a lightweight drinker, too, but she was a rather funny drunk. At least until she'd attempted to make out with Ephraim - then it hadn't been funny anymore.

Cecily crossed her arms and stuck her nose up in the air self-righteously. "I suppose," she huffed, and smiled in return, all embarrassment and resentment forgotten. "Want to dance with me?" she offered, scooting off of Riley and extending one hand toward him.

And how could he say no to her?

* * *

 _November 15th, X876  
Zale McNamara_

Zale had been watching the two of them for quite a while - Riley and Cecily were too close for his comfort. Too much emotional investment between Guildmates could cloud judgments, and he didn't want anything to distract them from serving him. He knew he had Cecily's complete, unwavering loyalty. She had professed to him that she would never take any romantic interest in anyone in the Guild - not ever. "Riley's like my big brother, anyway. That would be too weird," she'd assured Zale many times. And he believed her.

Riley, on the other hand... He didn't trust Riley. He didn't like Riley. Cecily had been in the Guild for years before Riley had arrived, and had devoted her entire being to Zale - she'd even let him literally burn the Guild's mark into the side of her throat rather than putting it on with magic, so that she'd never be rid of it. But ever since Riley had joined two years ago, she had become progressively attached to the young man - had even come to rely on him in several situations.

And normally, Zale didn't mind relationships between Guildmates. Under normal circumstances, they were fine. But this was _Cecily_ \- this was his pawn, his most loyal dog, and one of the strongest pieces in his game. He couldn't have her corrupted.

It made Zale uncomfortable. It wasn't something he'd planned, and it was annoying. A hindrance. If one of them were to die in battle, the other would be devastated. If Riley were to rebel, Zale wasn't entirely sure if he could get Cecily to run him through with the same ease as she'd done with Marx.

It was unnerving. It was disgusting. It was _wrong._

And he'd fix it. Sometime. But for now, he didn't want to proceed without full knowledge of how to control the relationship and find the best course of action. For now, they were fine. For now, there was really nothing that could be done. Both Riley and Cecily were good members of the Guild - strong, loyal, and willing to kill. They were fine.

Zale took a deep breath through his nose when Cecily plucked the cigarette out of Riley's mouth and tossed it to the side, and grabbed both of his hands in her own to tug him onto the dance floor. Zale's silver eyes narrowed dangerously, and he turned before he let his suspicion get the better of him.

Currently, everything was going according to plan. Currently, he was in control. Currently, some pretty-boy was not making out with his most loyal mage. And hopefully, it would stay that way. Hopefully, the two of them would remain the "brother and sister" they claimed that they were. That way, Zale would not be forced to intervene.

Everything was still going according to plan.

* * *

 **Currently, I've only accepted two characters.**

 **Riley Mendes \- portrayed above - belongs to Grimnack. **

**Janon Daerica \- who has not yet made an appearance - belongs to Xy-Guy. **

**Both of these characters are amazing, detailed, and fit well with the story.**

 **I'm still accepting - if you've submitted already, and I haven't accepted your character, please feel free to submit again and adjust the character. I'm sorry if they didn't fit.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **God bless you,**

 **Canima**


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